


023. Lovers

by BadWolfonBakerStreet



Series: BadWolfonBakerStreet's fanfic100 challenge [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and I mean so fluffy it will make your teeth hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfonBakerStreet/pseuds/BadWolfonBakerStreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes home to find Sherlock passed out on the floor. It was arsenic. In a way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	023. Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the lovely [papplecake](http://papplecake.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who asked for Sherlock sprawled out on the floor for no apparent reason. It only occurred to me that you probably meant lounging and not knocked out when I had already started writing. Whoops.

John practically bounced up the stairs to the flat. Some higher power had taken mercy on him today and spared him the usual marathon of stuffy noses and bored pensioners at the clinic and since they were a bit overstaffed today he got to leave an hour early. On the way home he even stopped to get flowers. Not for Sherlock, of course. Just because they looked nice and would look even nicer in their flat.

However, when he stepped into the living room he immediately dropped them and rushed to Sherlock, who was sprawled out on the floor in front one of the bookshelves and didn't move. John dropped to his knees and quickly checked Sherlock's pulse. He let out a relieved sigh when he found it, completely steady. Gently he stroked the hair from his forehead and found a small bloody cut.

“Sherlock? Come on, wake up, love!” He petted Sherlock's cheek and watched his lashes flutter before his eyes snapped open and he groaned. “What happened?” The questioned man sat up and carefully touched the cut on his head. “I was attacked from behind. They must have gotten away! John, is anything missing? Did you check the flat?” He tried getting up but John pushed him back down. “Steady! You got quite a blow to the head, don't overdo it. And by the way, the attacker did not get away, I was able to arrest them.”, John said gravely.

“Oh, excellent! Who is it? What do they want?”

John grinned. “Well, I'm not entirely sure what they want but I can tell you who it was.” John leaned over the detectives body to grab a book lying on the floor. “It was John Parascandola's A History of Arsenic.” Sherlock stared at the book in question and when he noticed the bloody corner his look became noticeably less quizzical and more sheepish. “Oh.”

“It must have fallen off the upper shelf and hit you.” John's grin got wider. “So you basically - “

“Yes!”, Sherlock interrupted and got up.

“... knocked yourself out with a book.”, John continued and pushed himself up as well 

“That's not funny!” Sherlock dramatically rolled his eyes as John started giggling.

“You know it is, love.” John made his way to the kitchen to check if there was anything edible in the fridge. Since Sherlock had reappeared a month ago his experiments had started taking up a lot of space again.

When there was only silence from the living room while he checked the cupboards, John went to check on his surprisingly clumsy Consulting Detective.

Sherlock was on the floor again, but this time conscious and kneeling. He was busy carefully picking up the flowers John had dropped. It was now his turn to say “Oh.”

“Very sentimental of you, John.”

“I – I didn't buy them _for_ you! They just looked... nice.” Knowing that his argument was not terribly convincing he returned to the kitchen and would have almost missed Sherlock saying: “Of course they are, love.” John stuck his head around the corner again. “That's the first time you said it.”

“Yes, very observant of you, well done.” Sherlock got up with the bunch of flowers and grabbed a vase, a Christmas present from Mrs. Hudson. It had the nervous system painted on it and fulfilled Sherlock's wish for bizarre things and Mrs. Hudson's love for domestic things. While he filled it at the sink John leaned against the counter.

“You know you don't have to say it because I do?”

Sherlock started cutting off the ends of the flowers and while John was surprised at how he did such a domestic thing as if it came to him absolutely naturally Sherlock said “Of course I do, I said it because it felt appropriate. After all that's what we are, isn't it? Lovers?” He said the word softly, as if he was tasting it, trying it on. John thought about how he had been waking up next to Sherlock every morning for the past month and how they had spent lazy afternoons on the sofa, occasionally kissing.

“I suppose we are, yes.” Sherlock hid his smile behind the bouquet when he went and placed the vase on the coffee table. It turned into a full grin when John's voice reached him from the kitchen.

“If you use that word to describe our relationship anywhere else than in this flat or even in it but to someone who isn't me I will hit you. A lot.”


End file.
